


The Feather and the Scale

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a battle with Black Adam, Superman and Batman suddenly find themselves someplace that looks suspiciously like the Egyptian afterworld.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feather and the Scale

Superman is looking up at the bloodstained snout of a crocodile.

"Be at rest, suppliant," it says in a deep, oddly-accented, female voice. "Your heart has passed the trials of Ma'at and you are safe."

Superman starts to struggle to his feet and finds that he can barely lift himself to his elbow. He feels weak and dizzy. He and Batman had been in a crystal pyramid fighting Black Adam, who was mad with grief and imploring the gods to revive his lost wife, Isis. There was a bright light, a deafening noise, and--

As his eyes focus he realizes that the being speaking to him is not, actually, a crocodile. She has a crocodile's head, but her body and front paws are a lion's, and her hindquarters seem to belong to a hippopotamus. No ordinary crocodile.

Of course, he thinks muzzily, the fact that she has just spoken to him probably should have tipped him off to that fact.

"It is time for your companion to face the trial," says the monster, and Superman follows her beady gaze to where a dark caped figure lies on a stone slab, unmoving.

A heavy paw lands on his chest, pinning him to the ground, and Clark realizes he had tried to struggle to his feet.

"You shall not interfere with the trial," says the monster calmly.

A figure moves from the shadows, tall and dark, two black ears pricked up against the light. But its face is that of a jackal's, and Clark feels an uncanny shudder go through him at the look in its ebony eyes. "Anubis," he whispers.

"Indeed," says the crocodile-monster. Her name floats to his consciousness: Ammit, the Devourer. "He who weighs the souls of the dead."

"No," Clark says. The weight on his chest increases, and he can feel four pinprick points of pain against his heart.

A new figure steps from the shadows into the circle of light: a woman with feathered wings for arms, holding a long ostrich feather. The feather is luminous around the edges, glowing with a strange light.

"Anubis will weigh the heart of the dead against the feather of Ma'at," says Ammit. "Against truth and justice. If the balance does not hold--" A black tongue lolls out of the monstrous mouth for a moment, "--I am allowed to devour the heart and doom it to eternal wandering."

Anubis's long, dark fingers touch Batman's chest. They pass through the armor, through the flesh. Clark hears himself make an inarticulate, wild cry as the god's hand comes up holding a pulsing heart in its grip.

Ma'at reaches out with one graceful, feathered arm, and places the gleaming feather on one side of the scales. "I shall ask of you the forty-two questions," she says in a voice like beaten silver as Anubis puts Bruce's heart on the other side of the scale. The scales tremble, everything seems to tremble on the fulcrum point.

"Have you stopped your ears against the words of Truth and Right?" The scales don't move. "Have you stemmed the flow of running water? Have you turned away cattle set apart for sacrifice? Have you stolen the cakes of the gods?"

Clark feels relief start to spread through him as the scales hold steady, but Ammit's smile doesn't waver. "Has your companion caused no terror, mortal?" she whispers under Ma'at's chant. "For if he has, his heart is mine."

Indeed, Ma'at is speaking: "Have you caused terror or have you worked affliction?" and Clark is struggling against the merciless, tawny paw, crying out:

"You don't have the right to judge him! He is not yours!"

The beautiful woman's face and the saturnine jackal's muzzle turn to look at Clark, and Clark feels the weight of their regard like a physical blow. _These are gods_ , the thought comes to him, _and you are but a mortal man._

But he is Superman. He has battled angels, he has vanquished demons. He once defeated a god armed with only a note of music and his will. With a wrench, he throws Ammit's paw from his chest and rises to his feet. "I will not allow you to judge him," he says.

A fleeting look passes between Ma'at and Anubis, heavy with a meaning Superman cannot read. For an instant a smile seems to flicker on the lovely face of Justice. Anubis speaks, his voice a yowling yap: "Understand what you are requesting, mortal. You have been judged and found worthy. Will you turn your back on Elysium and share this man's fate? If you choose so, know that one day Ammit may have two hearts for her feast instead of one."

Clark's hands are clenched. "I understand. I will go nowhere without him."

"You take responsibility for this man's heart?"

"I do."

Anubis tilts his head, his long ears twitching briefly. "So be it," he says.

"So be it," echoes Ma'at, her voice a sweet filigree to his growl.

They step away from the scale and Batman's body, watching him and waiting.

Clark steps into the circle of light and reaches out to the pulsing heart, cupping his hands around it tenderly. He lifts it and places it on Batman's chest, where it seems to sink into the armor, vanishing. There is a tiny motion; the chest rises and falls, and Clark feels tears sting the back of his eyes, but he meets the unblinking gaze of the three gods. "I'm taking him with me," he says. "Back to the world of the living."

He doesn't wait for their response, but scoops Batman's limp body into his arms and walks away.

He walks for what seems a very long time through shadowed halls and strange dark caverns, until he finds himself looking at a vast golden ship, a barque, sailing along a gloomy river. At its prow is a man with a hawk's head, his eyes like garnets.

Superman leaps into the ship. Ra stares at him, then turns back to piloting the ship as though Clark and Bruce are no concern of his. "Um. Hi," said Superman.

Ra simply clicks his beak a few times. It's an oddly companionable sound.

It's bright and hot on the barque, and getting brighter and hotter. Clark wraps his cape around Bruce's still body, shielding it with his own. The radiance goes through him like spears, too transcendent for pain, and he feels tears gather in his eyes and fall onto Bruce's unmoving face. The barque is lifting into the sky, rising up toward the world above, growing more brilliant by the moment.

As the light lifts Clark out of himself, out of the darkness of the netherworld, he feels for just a moment a touch of feathers along his cheek, hears a voice whisper in his ear.

He comes to in the crystal pyramid, his arms still around his unconscious friend. Black Adam is nowhere to be found; Clark remembers the blood on Ammit's snout and shudders.

Batman sighs as Clark lifts him, and his arms go around Clark's neck. He is smiling slightly, as if he knows a secret, and Clark can't seem to look away. "I had a dream," Bruce says. "You were there."

Clark can't help smiling back as he remembers the brush of ethereal feathers along his face, the final divine whisper in his ear:

 _"You have been given nothing that was not already yours."_


End file.
